


Debts and Dry Spells

by indiefic



Series: You Can't Take The Sky From Me [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe borrowing liberally from the Star Wars EU, Alternate Universe loosely based on Firefly, F/M, Mentions of sex work, steggy babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: A sequel to You Can't Take the Sky From Me, set three or four years in the future.





	Debts and Dry Spells

“We have to get a message to him,” Barton said.

 “Can’t,” Coulson replied flatly.  “You know how paranoid Dita is.  No coms.  The only people in or out of her compound are paying customers.  You want Rogers out, we can get him out.  But the whole op will be a loss.”

 “Shit,” Fury cursed.  No one on the crew wanted to risk blowing the op.  They’d sunk too many resources.  But the opportunity to double their take had just arisen.  It would put them in the black for the next two years.  But only if they could get word to Rogers.  Fury frowned.  “I may know someone.”

 Natasha looked over at him.  “You’re not serious.”

 “Try me,” Fury snapped.  “By my accounting, I’m still owed a very large favor.”

 Coulson looked from Fury to Natasha and back.  “What?”

 Natasha crossed her arms over her chest.  “He’s considering sending in someone to liaise with Rogers, get him the message.”

 “I just explained - “ Coulson started.

 “Undercover,” Natasha qualified.

 Coulson frowned.

 Natasha cut him off before he could start enumerating why that plan wouldn’t work.  “Rogers is working for Dita as muscle while Tavin is in residence.  Rogers should be strictly behind the scenes.  But ...”

 “But what?” Coulson asked.

 “Dita’s a businesswoman first and foremost,” Fury replied.  “If a patron with a lot of money walks in there and wants to contract the services of one of her goons, she’ll make it happen.”

 Coulson frowned again.  “But the whole place is bugged.  It couldn’t be glancing contact.  In order for someone to get close enough to Rogers, and for long enough to relay the message, they’d have to - “

 “We know,” Natasha and Fury said in concert.

 Coulson looked deeply unhappy.  “Cap’s not going to like this.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was in the kitchen, grabbing a quick bite to eat when Zyfa, Dita’s factotum found him.  As usual, Zyfa was dressed all in black, from the cowl that covered her bald head, to the heavy leather boots that covered her feet.

Steve looked up at her, frowning.  “What?”

Zyfa gave him a hard smile that displayed her gleaming white teeth, which had been filed to points.  “You don’t like me, Porthi scum.”

“I don’t like pimps or traffickers.”

If Zyfa took offense at his assessment of her occupation, she didn’t show it.  “Speaking of that,” she said, “we have added an extension to your contract.”

Steve set his fork down.  The way Zyfa was looking at him, and the obvious satisfaction in her expression, left little doubt as to what exactly the contract extension entailed.  And Steve wasn’t interested.  “You can’t do that.”

“I can,” Zyfa said with obvious satisfaction.  “And I have.  I already spoke with Hill.  She agreed the extension, provided she is adequately compensated.”

Steve bristled.  If push came to shove, there was no way they were forcing him to do anything.  But he’d been undercover for four months.  Coulson had done years of prep work.  

 And Steve owed Fury.  

 Big time.  

 Steve didn’t want to blow this op if there was any way around it.  If Hill had actually agreed to the contract extension, there had to be more to this than Zyfa understood.  That alone warranted further investigation.

 He pushed himself back from the table.  “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve followed Zyfa through the warren of dimly lit hallways that constituted Dita’s domain.  The entire compound was built for clandestine encounters.  It catered to the galaxy’s elite, and little, if anything, was out of bounds.

Zyfa led him to a series of rooms he’d never seen.  Even the barest glimpses into the rooms showed that the accommodations were far more opulent than what most of Dita’s customers required.  Whoever had contracted for his services was wealthy, and powerful.  Steve’s stomach tightened.  He had no idea who might want his services, but the fact that they rated this kind of welcome made him uneasy.  What if Zyfa had lied about contacting Hill?  It certainly wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.

Zyfa opened the door to a private room and then stepped aside.  Steve’s fears were confirmed as he looked at the two private security guards stationed in the room.  They were Porthi.

He turned to tell Zyfa the job was off, but before he could react, she’d clamped the manacle around his wrist.  Every muscle in Steve’s body froze.  Well, not every muscle.  He could breathe.  He could look around.  But he could not move on his own volition.

Zyfa leaned in close and whispered in his ear.  “It’s so much easier if you don’t fight.”  She pulled back, giving him a nasty smile and then turned on her heel and left.  

The guards stepped forward, each one taking one of his arms.  They led him to the bed, situating him so he was sitting in the middle of mattress, leaning back against the headboard.  They attached his wrists to the headboard with another set of manacles, garden variety iron this time, with no fancy circuitry.  Then they removed the control bracelet.

Steve immediately pulled at his arms, but the iron manacles held strong.  The guards backed away slowly, and resumed their positions near the door.  They wouldn’t look at him.

Steve didn’t recognize the guards.  But they were clearly from the upper echelons of Porthi society.  Things within the Empire were still changing so quickly in the wake of the Empress’s return.  Powerful families who had been in hiding for years had returned to claim their places.  There were always new faces, new names.  New threats to Peggy.

This was bad.  This was really bad.  Screw the mission.  A Porthi had paid off Dita to get him alone, and at her mercy.  There were a lot of people in the Empire who still held grudges against Peggy’s family.  If they targeted him, it was because of his connection to Peggy.  This could not happen.

The door opened again and a man stumbled inside, carrying scanning equipment.  Steve’s eyes went wide.  “Scott?”

Scott’s jaw dropped open as he looked at Steve, manacled to the bed.  Scott's face flamed red, and his eyes were round as saucers.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lang?” Steve demanded.

“Now,” one of the guards barked.  

Scott jumped and turned his attention from Steve.  He scanned the room, taking surreptitious glances at Steve, still chained to the headboard.  As Scott located various listening and recording devices, they were deactivated and removed.  

“Scott,” Steve roared, pulling at the manacles again, “who are you working for?”

  
“Me.”

Everyone in the room startled.  Steve was immediately on alert, but no longer afraid.

“Out,” she snapped.

The guards and Scott quickly headed for the door, pulling it tightly closed.

Steve was stock still, staring at the robed figure in the middle of the room.  He felt like he couldn’t get enough air.  Slowly, she pulled back the hood.  Their eyes met and he swallowed thickly.  “ _ Peggy _ .”

She arched a perfectly manicured brow and shrugged the robe open and back on her shoulders.  Beneath it, she was wearing crimson lace.  And not much else.  

“I prefer  _ Empress.” _

Steve couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if his life depended on it.  He was hard and aching in an instant.  

Peggy dropped the robe to the floor and slowly walked toward the bed, swaying in a way that would have been cartoonish in any other setting.  As it was, all Steve could concentrate on was the rhythm of her hips and breasts, and the perfect crimson bow of her lips.

Her gaze raked over him and she smiled.  “I take it you like what you see.”

He opened his mouth to say something and then settled for just nodding.  “Yeah.”

She sighed theatrically, looking away coyly.  Steve knew that she had to know what breathing like that did to her chest.  Fucking hell.  It had been almost five months since he last touched her.

“I know it’s forward of me,” she said, as if she were making an embarrassing confession, “contracting the services of a man.  But I have a ...”  she looked up at him, “problem.”

He knew his mouth was hanging open.  “Problem?”

She nodded, frowning for effect.  Then carefully she crawled onto the bed, hands and knees, stalking toward him.  He couldn’t breathe.

She straddled him, her knees on either sides of his hips.  As he moved forward to try and bury his face between her breasts, she pulled back, staying just out of range.  Carefully, she sat down, across his thighs, again avoiding rubbing against him in any way that might have alleviated some of the incredible tension he was currently feeling.

“My problem,” she said again.  She raised her hand, lightly touching her chest, idly trailing her lacquered nails over the exposed creamy white skin of the tops of her breasts.

His eyes were glued on the motions of her hand.  “Yeah? Anything I can help with?”

“I have children,” she said, conspiratorially.

He blinked and looked up meeting her gaze.  What the hell did Katie and Dee have to do with this?

She rolled her hips, scooting closer.  He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes screwing shut.  God, the way she smelled.  He leaned forward, and this time she didn’t move away.  He kissed the skin of her neck, groaning at the taste of her.  Her fingers slid into his hair, cupping the back of his head, guiding him.  He kissed across her chest, and then down, licking and biting gently at her breast through the crimson silk of the bra.

“I want another baby.   _ Now _ .”

Steve forced himself to stop.  It took every bit of willpower he had.  Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at her.  “We talked about this,” he said.  “We wanted to wait until Katie was in school.”

“That was because Eir was concerned about having a repeat of the problems I had with Dee.”

He sighed, groaning as he shut his eyes.  “Exactly.”

“I saw Eir last month and she said I’m fine to try again now.  And I double checked with Helen just to be sure.  She agreed.”  She reached behind herself and unclasped the bra, then tossed it away.  His eyes immediately dropped to her chest, to the hard points of her nipples.  She leaned forward, stroking the side of his face, while rolling her hips against his.  He was panting, open mouthed.  “I’m ovulating,” she whispered.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Steve said in a strangled whisper, though whether he was cursing her to the gods, or thanking them, no one was certain.

She bit at his jaw and then caught his earlobe between her teeth, at the same time she snaked a hand between their bodies, rubbing him roughly over his trousers.  “Fuck me, Steve,” she said.  “Give me another baby.  As your Empress, I demand it.”

He whimpered.  “You’re sure they said it was okay?”

She pulled back, bracing her arms behind herself, arching her back in a way that played up the most of her considerable assets.  “Positive.”

Steve groaned.  It was a lot of information to try and process at the moment.  He gave up.  He trusted Peggy.  And they’d always planned on having another kid.  He nodded.

She smiled broadly and pushed herself back up.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbing her chest against him.  “I missed you, Steve.”

He leaned forward and kissed her hard.  Fuck, he’d missed her.  The op was necessary.  They both owed Fury.  But it had also been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, being away from his family for so long.

Peggy leaned over and flipped the releases on both of the manacles.  Steve had her pinned on her back to the bed in less than a second.  She laughed in delight, wrapping her legs around him.

Steve tore off his shirt, probably literally if the rending sound was anything to go by.  And then they were both bare to the waist, pressed chest to chest.  He groaned and captured her lips, kissing her deeply.  He’d been starved for her for months.

With a growl, he moved down her body, tearing away the flimsy pair of crimson panties, but leaving the garter belt.  He buried his face between her legs, licking and kissing as she writhed against him.  Her hand fisted in his hair and her hips bucked against him, but he kept on, drunk on the taste of her.  

When she was limp and sated, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked at his wife.  She was beautiful, her hair in disarray, her color high, her lips red from where she bit them to stifle her cries as he brought her off.

He unbuckled his belt and then shoved his trousers and shorts down and away.  Naked, he settled against her, giving her a lazy, sloppy kiss.

She smiled against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “I despise this fucking op you’re on.”

“Me too,” he said meaningfully.  

Slowly, he pushed his hips forward, making her gasp as he entered her.  “Fuck, Steve.”

He let out a bark of laughter.  “As you wish, Empress.”

She made a contented sound, scraping her nails down his back.  

Steve was done talking.  He concentrated on the feel of her around him as he drove into her.   The wet slap of skin against skin, the taste and smell and sound of her, it was all too much.  She held him close, whispering to him, encouraging him as he finally lost himself in her.

 

* * *

 

They were curled around one another in the massive bed, finally under the covers.  Steve held her as if he never intended to let her go, even though he understood they only had a few hours.  “Are the girls with you?”

“Of course,” she said.

“So you left Michael in charge?”

“All told I’ll be gone less than a day.  It will be fine.  Not even your mother could manage to architect a coup on that short of notice.”

He buried his face against the side of her neck and tightened his arms around her.  She ran her fingers lightly up his arm to his shoulder.  There was a wealth of conversation unspoken in their respective gestures.  Steve’s protectiveness and fierce devotion, the fact that Peggy was finally at a place where she could accept those emotions from him without running in fear.

“Has Sarah been awful?” Steve asked carefully.

Peggy sighed.  “No,” she admitted.  “I think she sees the girls as a bloodless coup.  Eventually her progeny will sit on the throne of Porth.  She plays the long game.”

Steve snorted.  That was definitely an apt description of his mother.

“But,” Peggy added, “Sarah will be happy when you’re back in the Empire where you belong.  She’s significantly less meddlesome when you’re around.”

“When I’m around, it just means you don’t have to speak to her directly,” Steve said.

Peggy narrowed her eyes at him, but she didn’t deny it.  “Speaking of you being around,” she said, “how much longer is this damn op going to last?”

Steve sighed.  “Another six weeks at least.”

“Fucking hell, Steve.”

Steve winced.  “I know.  Believe me, I wish that wasn’t the case.”

“This is highly inconvenient,” she said, in her best imperial voice.  “I can’t very well get myself pregnant.”

He laughed, pulling her closer.  “I know.  Believe me, this loyal servant appreciates your sacrifice, Empress.”

She rolled her eyes.  

“So, not that I’m not very appreciative of you contracting for my specialized services,” he said.  “But why are you really here?”

“Isn’t it enough that I wanted to see my husband?” she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

He frowned.

“I’m here because Fury asked me to give you a message,” she admitted.

He looked at her expectantly.

“When you go through Dita’s files, he needs the Carston Enterprises file, as well as whatever the hell else you’re here to get.”

 "That’s it?”

 She nodded.  “Yes.”  At his expression, she frowned.  “What?  I was lonely, Steve.  And you have marital obligations.”

 He laughed.  He knew that was as close as she was going to get to admitting weakness.  “I love you.”

 

END STORY


End file.
